


Feels Like Falling For The First Time

by liam22



Category: Heroes - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-12-12
Updated: 2009-12-12
Packaged: 2018-01-25 16:38:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,366
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1655288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/liam22/pseuds/liam22
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Post 3.01. She always thought it would hurt. Written for a kink meme over at sylar_claire. Warnings for dub_con and bizarre imagery.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feels Like Falling For The First Time

She always thought it would hurt. 

Minutes ago, she was huddled in a closet, practically paralyzed with fear. Now, splayed out on her living room table, she doesn't even feel that. His fingers are surprisingly gentle as they pick through her neurons and synaptic connections. Hers feel like they are still clutched around the kitchen knife she had stabbed him with earlier. Out of the corner of her eye, the top of her skull is lying carelessly on the floor. 

“Are you going to eat it?” Her words sound curiously flat.

“Why, Claire,” He's close, practically purring in her ear. She shudders and her skin pin-pricks with goosebumps; and not because of the imagery. “That's disgusting.”

She's not sure when he finishes, but sometime during the process, the poking becomes stroking. It's deceptively comforting - almost like a head massage – or it would have been if she wasn't bleeding all over her mother's lace doilies. She wishes he would hurry up all ready. She wishes he wouldn't stop. 

He rounds the table, eyes piercing through her the whole time, until he is kneeling at the other end by her feet. She barely has the energy to prop herself up onto her elbows to look at him properly. She knows he wants something completely different now. She's not entirely sure she would be apposed to letting him have it. 

God, what did he do to her?

“Fascinating,” The way he draws out the vowels in the word make it sound much more sinister than the last time she heard it from the school psychologist. Sylar's hand strokes the cleanly healed chest wound. “Simply fascinating.” If Mr. Martin had tried anything like this, there wouldn't be a school board in the whole state of California that wouldn't be calling for his resignation.

“You did good today, babydoll.” Was that supposed to be a compliment? “I think you deserve a reward.” 

Suddenly she's moving, sliding along the table until her hips reached the edges. Her legs fall open carelessly on either side of him. He laughs low in his throat. “I've always know you were a bit of a slut.”

Guess he was going to figure out how much. 

His bloody fingertips expose the waistband on her pants. With the same care and precision that he used on her brain, he circled the button there. She'd never be able to wear these jeans again. 

“Take them off.” He sounds breathless, but not all weird and panty like the first (and last) time she almost let Zach get this far. 

Her hands comply. Her brain is screaming no.

She refuses to blush as she drags them, along with her underwear, past her hips and past her knees. It's that damn Petrelli pride. Her panties, embarrassingly enough, the ones with pink bunnies, get caught on her left foot. Before she can bend down and remove them, he catches her foot with both hands and pockets the pair. 

“These,” He runs his thumb along the arch of her foot indicating the bobby socks she was still wearing. “These stay on.”

He drapes that leg over his shoulder. Her fingers clench at the edges of the table. She bites her lip. There's a knowing smirk on his face. What was he doing to her?

The edge of her sweater starts to drag upward. She grabs the hem herself, tugging it the rest of the way off. It almost felt like control. The bra she is wearing is thin. It's under the air conditioning, not his burning gaze, that her nipples harden and poke out against the lace. He smirks, but doesn't say anything about taking if off. 

He traces a finger across the bow of her mouth. It's an unspoken command for her to open up, and when she does, one last bloody finger plunges in her mouth. The taste of copper is not unfamiliar. It must be more of a turn on for him than it is for her. His eyes are blown out with lust, practically a soul-sucking black. 

She turns away. Why did she have to pick today of all days to finally listen to her mother about turning the television off. The clink of his belt buckle and the rasp of his zipper seem inhumanly loud. She refuses to look down. His will not be the first cock she sees in person.

Her apathy must anger him. His first stroke is violent, tearing through her hymen. He pauses with an almost flinch; that's how she can tell. It wasn't fair; how come he could feel it and she couldn't. 

“Virgin?” He sounds surprised. Or maybe he just liked the sound of his own voice. He doesn't move. She wishes he would. He feels uncomfortably full within her. But not painful. Wasn't it supposed to be? “Say yes.” He phrases like a command. His hands dig into the sides of her hips. She's not sure how hard. 

“Why?” she answers. There was no point to it. He was going to take what he wanted anyways.

His cock pushes in harder this time, bumping right up against her cervix. They're a kettle-shaped water spot on the corner of the ceiling she's never noticed before. He moans her name (her real name, not any of the silly nicknames he'd been using up until that point) and drags her hips up off the coffee table. She still refuses to look at him. 

He's grunting in her ear and if she listens hard enough she can hear the school bus picking up the afternoon kindergarten kids. The legs of the coffee table shake in time with each stroke. Then, then she knows she's in trouble. His thumb finds her clit and starts tapping out a rhythm. Slow, quick, quick. Slow, quick, quick.

And that feels... that feels good.

And all the thoughts of Zach and Mr. Martin, and that weird kid in her science class that keeps looking at her funny, all poof out of her head beyond the reach of coherent thought. She doesn't want to live in this moment. But there's a pressure building up in the base of her spine and it feels like her whole body exists solely for that spot in between her legs. 

But then it's over, and he's pulling out. She wants to cry in protest. She doesn't. As good as that felt for the last few seconds there, he's still Sylar. He's still the enemy. 

He leans over her and his cock drags dribbly-wet across her stomach. That can't be her? There was no way she had gotten that aroused. Right? She looks down; just to check, really. 

Damn it. She catches the sight of his hand stroking his cock. He wasn't supposed to be her first. Now she won't be able to forget. 

He explodes suddenly. How come he didn't warn her? That's how they always did it in the soft porn videos Jackie used to smuggle into their sleepovers. Thick milky globs fall mainly on her bra; her good one too. It only figured as much. 

“Why thank you, babydoll.” It's bizarrely polite for a man with half-lidded eyes and his now-saggy cock still in his hand. Guess that was Sylar for you. He tucks himself back in his pants and gets to his feet. Now she can't stop looking. 

He fishes the top of her head from the side of the table and places it back on with a decidedly cheery pat. The cut heals quickly. He watches it with a Cheshire cat grin, until the only evidence of the entire event is the thin line of blood running across her forehead. She doesn't move to wipe if off. Was that it? Was that really how she ended up losing her innocence? Her fingers run threw the strands of hair. She needed to check; she needed it to be ok. Her face screws up in a look of utter disgust. God, how did he manage to get semen in her hair?

She lifts herself into a sitting position with stiff arms and pulls her discarded sweater back over her breasts. He walks out the door without looking back.

She always thought it would hurt.


End file.
